A Wandering Melody (HP SI, ASOIAF Crossover)

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123 AC, Dragonstone

But then Alicent turned, and the sight made the blood freeze in her veins. The sorcerer sat at ease, speaking softly. And across from him, her daughter, sweet and strange Helaena, laughed like she'd known him forever.

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms stared at her daughter's face as she walked closer. Helaena looked happy. There was always this melancholy to her, ever since she was a child. Alicent had always thought that it was her delicate nature. She was more at home in the gardens, playing with her insects, than she was in court. She had a tendency to say some odd things, completely independently from her conversations, something that grated Aegon to no end, but that Aemond found charming.

A part of her wished that Aemond had been the one to marry her. Alicent knew that Aegon would not be a good husband to her, but having a Targaryen wife would give him some legitimacy. She wished it wasn't so, but women had a duty, and she was sure that Helaena would fulfil hers. She had already done so, having just given birth to the twins Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, although they had an extra finger on each hand and an extra toe on each leg, and they were quiet… Too quiet…

The babes were small and delicate, and should never have come to Dragonstone, and yet Helaena had insisted that she would come and refused to be separated from her babes.

Helaena rarely smiled, let alone laughed, and yet, she did in the company of the man before her, a sorcerer of all things. As she came closer, she overheard the end of the conversation, "So, here I am, flailing around, while Daphne tries to hold me down so that I don't float away, only for her to be stung by one of them as well."

Her daughter burst into laughter, "So, what did you do?"

"I threw a rope at one of the trees and the other end at Daphne. We waited for the effects to wear off and then hid away, pretending that it never happened. Don't tell her I said that, but I think she hated Australia because she was so embarrassed."

"Weren't you embarrassed as well?"

The man snickered, "Why would I? I had fun, didn't I?"

Helaena giggled, and Alicent spoke up, "Hello, Helaena. I thought you would have stayed at the feast."

To her dismay, the smile on her daughter's face faded away quickly enough. "I wished to meet Lord Harry."

"Of course," Alicent spoke up dryly, "Lord Harry. I am glad that he entertained you so."

"Oh, nothing much, just a small story of an adventure I had with my wife in Australia, where we got stung by Billywigs, a species of insect found almost exclusively there. It wasn't exactly the safest space to go, but there were so many fascinating creatures there."

Helaena perked up, "Insects as well?"

"Like you would not believe. I have a few books on them back in the manse. I don't mind you borrowing them for a bit."

"Really?" the princess asked with a vulnerable look on her face.

"Of course. Who am I to deny a young girl her passion?"

"Helaena is not a girl," Alicent remarked, "She's a woman grown with children of her own."

The jovial smile disappeared from the man's face for a fraction of a second, "I apologise. Where I'm from, children attain their majority at the age of seventeen, or seven and ten as you call it. It's hard to look at your daughter and see nothing but a child. Marriage at that age, let alone having children, would definitely raise some eyebrows. Hell, marriage before being considered an adult is illegal. At least, I think it is. I never really checked because it never happened. I personally didn't get married until I was in my twenties."

"Did your people not care about securing your line?" Alicent asked, harsher than she meant to.

It was Helaena that answered this time, in a dreamy voice, "Threads of Black, Threads of Death, a stranger slipping past the threads of fate and destiny forgot his name."

Alicent was about to chastise her for what she had said, only for the sorcerer to nod with a wide smile on his face, "I suppose that's an apt description. But nothing is absolute, not until the ink is dry."

"You listen. You understand," Helaena stated, looking at the man with a strange intensity.

"I don't blame you. Not many do. You're a very strong girl, Helaena Targaryen."

"But the rats, the blood and cheese," she replied with some heat in her voice that Alicent had never heard coming from her.

"As I said, the ink is not dry until it is written. I am proof of that, right?"

"Spool of green, spool of black," she muttered back, "Father is healed now. They will wait."

The man gave her a kind smile, "There's a saying. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That's why we call it the present."

"They will be safe?" Helaena asked, looking vulnerable.

"As safe as anyone can be. I can help if you want. Children should never suffer for the greed of violent men. You know what they say, these violent delights have violent ends."

"These are not your words," Helaena spoke up with a mischievous smile on her face.

"Perhaps, but they're suitable, aren't they? Do you wish for them to stop, the dreams?"

"Maybe once, when they didn't change. But they do, and everything will be different."

The man nodded, "The offer stands, should you require it, but I will not stay here for a long time. We're planning on travelling soon after this."

"Bring me a gift," Helaena demanded, sounding far more childish and more demanding than she ever had before.

"Of course. We're planning on going to Sothoryos eventually. I think there might be a few interesting bugs to bring back."

Helaena smiled excitedly, and Alicent found herself frozen completely in her tracks. She had been completely set aside during the conversation, and if she was honest with herself, she barely understood most of the conversation. No, she didn't understand a word of it.

The man… The sorcerer… He spoke like Helaena. Alicent had grown used to her daughter's odd mutterings over the years. She often ignored it, as most people did, but if the man seemed to respond with his own cryptic words. He and her daughter seemed to hold an entire conversation that Alicent simply didn't understand.

And worse, they both seemed perfectly aware of it.

The moment she had seen her daughter speaking with the sorcerer, she wanted to pull her away, to shield her from his influence. A princess of the blood, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, had no reason to consort with someone like him.

And yet, during the conversation, if one could call it that, there was a light in her eyes that Alicent hadn't seen in years. It terrified her. Because it was not born of duty, faith, or obligation. It was born of recognition.

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms stood still for a long moment, then stepped forward with all the quiet authority of her station. "Helaena," she said, voice gentle but firm, "your children must be growing restless. Go see to them, sweetling."

Her daughter blinked, gaze flicking between her mother and the sorcerer, reluctant to leave, as if torn from something only she could see. But after a pause, she nodded slowly. "Yes, mother," she said at last, casting one last wistful look at the man before walking away in silence.

"That was rude," the sorcerer casually commented, "We were having a very interesting conversation."

"And what was this conversation about?" Alicent asked, curious.

"If you do not know, then you'll have to ask Helaena. She's a very brave girl, that one. Very brave indeed."

"Perhaps, but a princess of the blood should not consort so freely with a known sorcerer," she said without preamble, her voice low and controlled. "The Faith would take grave issue with such familiarity… as would many lords of the realm. I hope you understand the position you are placing her in." 

"I never did understand your people's aversion to magic. People often fear what they don't understand, but magic is a fact of life, one that you have lived with for all your lives, and so did your ancestors. Hell, your daughter is a Dragonrider, and dragons are magic. Aside from breathing fire, their wings would never be able to support their weight without it. The very act of flying is magic in itself."

"We are not Valyrian," Alicent replied in a clipped tone, "Dragons are remnants of the magics of Valyria. You will find no other magic here?"

"You're joking, right? Your very seasons are magical in nature."

That brought her short, "The seasons."

"Yes, it's naturally impossible to have seasons that last years at a time. And believe me, I checked; the planet's orbit is stable. The seasons here feel more like a battle, a fight of influence, one that could go either way, a magical effect, to say the least. The point is that your very history is steeped in magic. Your seasons are influenced by magic. Valyrian Steel is also magic. To deny it and condemn it would be akin to denying the existence of the sun and moon."

"Is that what you said to my daughter, convinced her to practice magic?"

The sorcerer snorted, "You truly are a paranoid woman. No, we spoke of my travels a bit, of a few interesting insects I've seen, and then I reassured her that everything will be fine."

"She wouldn't have been so worried if you hadn't convinced Viserys to remove my father as hand," Alicent replied with a harsh whisper.

"Huh, so he's really going through with it. Colour me surprised. I didn't think he had it in him. I guess that's where Rhaenyra gets her impulsiveness."

"Your actions have endangered my children," Alicent hissed, "And I am not a woman who forgives or forgets easily."

The man had the gall to roll his eyes at her, "Honey, your father would have gotten you and your entire family killed, just for a chance to put his blood on the throne. The sad thing is that he was ruling the continent in everything but name when the king was ill. He had everything he could have ever wanted. Eventually, Rhaenyra's descendants would have had to marry other Dragonriders, and his blood would inevitably sit on the throne."

"The throne is Aegon's by the laws of…"

"You seem to think that I give a shit about you and your laws. But your words show that you have no understanding of what wars are. War isn't such a glorious purpose. It isn't something to be celebrated. It is death. And what do you think a war between Dragonriders would be like? The chances are that both riders will die. How many of your children are you willing to sacrifice to put a crown on an unwilling king's head, all for the greed of your father? I genuinely want to know what the plan is here."

"This will not escalate to war. With enough support from the lords…" Alicent protested.

Only for the sorcerer to interrupt her, "Do you seriously think that Rhaenyra and Daemon will just stand aside if you somehow turn the entire realm against them? They would go out while taking as much as they could from you. Your husband's decisions created a succession crisis. Perhaps Aegon should have been heir. Perhaps he shouldn't have. Perhaps you shouldn't have married the King. Perhaps it doesn't matter at all; the past is written, the ink is dry, and you have to deal with the consequences."

Alicent stood silent for a moment, breathing shallow, her lips tight. The worst part was that there was a twisted sort of sense to his words, buried deep beneath the arrogance and foreign bluntness. But she would not, could not, admit it.

Instead, she said, "And you presume yourself fit to pass judgment on matters of succession? On our customs? You, a man with no ties to Westeros, no understanding of our people?"

The man took a deep breath. "You asked me why I advised Viserys to remove your father as Hand. I didn't do it because he was some monster who would kill everyone in his path. From what little I know of him, he is a competent hand and a clever man, but he is a biased one. Viserys asked me how to stop the growing rift in his family, and having a biased Hand would be problematic."

"And yet, by doing so, you have also endangered my children," Alicent almost yelled.

For a fraction of a second, the world froze, and Alicent's breath caught in her throat. She felt like she was standing in front of a dragon, who could kill her with nothing more than a thought, and then she saw them, flashes, barely more than that, of her children's corpses, every single one.

Her breath shuddered, and everything returned to normal, as if it were nothing more than a brief nightmare. Alicent felt her face pale and her fingers tremble. And yet, the sorcerer before her looked unconcerned, as if nothing had happened. "You're angry. I weakened your political position, after all. You have every right to be. But I want you to look at your children, at your daughter and your grandchildren, and tell me what you think their fate would be if things had escalated into a war. I am not one of you. I am not Westerosi, and I have no attachments to your traditions. I have no stakes in your Game of Thrones. I am a traveller, and I will continue to travel, to see the world and its wonders. I will not suffer the consequences of this succession crisis either; you will. I quite literally have nothing to gain, while you, Queen Alicent, have everything to lose. Now, if you excuse me, I have ignored my lovely wife for too long this evening."

He walked over and spoke to his wife, who smiled brightly at him, before grasping his hand and leaving the room, with the children looking slightly disappointed at their departure.

Alicent took a seat, alone, and watched from the window much like her husband had when she found him. She had been too shaken by what she had seen, by what she had just seen, hoping that it was just a fragment of her imagination.

Yet the fear, the panic, it had been real. It was some kind of magic, wasn't it? Could it be a trick? She didn't return to the feast, nor did she call for wine or company. The sorcerer's words and what she had seen echoed in her mind. Her gaze drifted to the heavy stone walls, to the carved window slits overlooking the sea. She sat still as stone, unmoving, alone but for the silent figure of Ser Criston standing guard by the door. She had almost forgotten that he had been there during their conversation.

She wanted to speak to him, perhaps to ground herself, after being unsettled by this conversation, but every time words almost left her mouth, she saw her children's burnt bodies and stopped herself.

And then came the horns.

They sounded thrice, and Alicent stood without thinking, walking to the outer balcony. Ser Criston followed close behind. Far below, in the darkening bay, a small fleet arrived floating, with the banners of House Velaryon fluttering proudly and defiantly, much like the Sea Snake himself. Above them, soared the familiar form of the Red Queen, Meleys.

Alicent narrowed her eyes.

The Velaryons had come.

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If you want to support me check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr

I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.

Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.